


Never Wanted To Leave

by imbadwithnameslol



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Elia Martell Deserved Better, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loss of Identity, Loss of Parent(s), Mental Breakdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Pregnancy, Robert's Rebellion, Slow Burn, and then gets worse again, hi, like a lot, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbadwithnameslol/pseuds/imbadwithnameslol
Summary: She never wanted to leave the North. never wanted to leave her family and the promise she made to her now dead mother. A promise that is far more difficult to keep when your're sent to Kings Landing and forced to watch as your life unfolds and crumbles all around you. All because of the Dragon Prince's Gods forbidden prophecy.





	1. The Heart Tree

Never Wanted To Leave.  
Chp.1- The Heart Tree

 

 

From a young age, Lyarra Stark knew that all people must walk a certain path in life. As a girl, she once believed that like her elder sister Branda, so wild and wolf-like, she would walk amongst the ranks of men as their equal. As a young girl, Lyarra also learned, after seeing her sister rejected and scorned for attempting to follow in the footsteps of those along the path of brave knights and noble lords, that the path one desired was not always the one that they were meant to walk. Especially when you were a women. This never became clearer than when she seen her once brave and wild sister reduced to a shadow of her former self, her life wasted in a marriage with a man she did not love and giving birth to children she could not bear to be near, for the path she now walked was one of lost dreams and squandered hope.

And so, Lyarra Stark took this lesson and locked it deep in her heart. She promised herself, that to avoid the sorrow that struck down her sister she would never stray from the path laid before her, for all that lay beyond could only lead to despair. When her father announced that the time had come for him to arrange her own betrothal, Lyarra accepted it with grace. She believed that the Gods had awarded her for her acceptance when her father revealed that she would be wed to her cousin, Rickard Stark. Unlike Branda, she had accepted fate and had been awarded for it. She and her husband loved one another and their union was prosperous. She had given him four hale and hearty babes. Wild Brandon was her dear Branda born again, full of wolfs blood, but this time in the right body. Quiet little Eddard, always so serious yet she knew his heart was kind. Rambunctious Lyanna, one of her greatest loves and at the same time her greatest worry, for like Brandon she too had the wolfs blood running in her veins.

A feather light touch broke her reverie, as her eyes met that of her third born, Alys. The girl looked at her, her young face devoid of any of the traditional Stark features that her other siblings possessed. Instead, it was a face much like her own meeting her gaze. Eyes blue like the winter roses her Rickard would gift her, and her hair was the same colour as her own mahogany tresses. The only time Lyarra could see any Stark in the young girls features was when she frowned, for her face took on the same concerned gaze that she had seen overtake her Rickards on numerous occasions. It was only when she seen this aforementioned frown overtake her daughters features that she realised that the young girl had been speaking to her.

“Mother, is everything alright? Maester Walys said you wanted to speak to me” the young girl said softly.

So she did. Lyarra let a small smile grow on her face as she struggled to rise from her seated position on a stump by the Godswood, her heavily pregnant form hindering her every move.  
It was when she finally got to her feet that a wave of weakness overtook her. She leaned heavily upon her young daughter, whose frown gave way to a look of panic.

“Mother! Are you feeling ill again? Do you need me to get Maester Walys? I’ll-” Lyarra interrupted her fearful rambling. 

“My Love, it's alright, carrying a babe is a tiring process, that is all. There is no need to worry” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and one look at Alys’ face told her that her daughter didn’t believe her words either. 

Memories from not so long ago flashed in her mind, Alys’ face, looking younger and more frightened. Tears streaming down her small face as she took in the sight of her mother, who was close to death after the birth of Lyanna. Lyarra had barely survived her last dance with mortality. Her hand protectectively cradled her large bump. She was not so foolish as to believe that she would escape its cold hands this time. If her growing weakness and constant baragement of illness was anything to go by, she would not be able to outrun them for much longer. 

She had accepted to walk this path, knowing its perils. And if hers was to end in her birthing bed, then so be it. Her only wish was that her babe would live.

Alys, seeing her mother's gaze darken, gently reached for her hand and took it in hers. “Mother, you wanted to talk to me about something? We can go to the solar where its warmer, I don’t want you to get sick again.” She tugged on her mother's hand, attempting to lead her back towards the keep. But Lyarra resisted.

“Yes, I did my Love. But I would much rather do so here” Alys’ brow furrowed at her mother’s words. 

“But it's so cold, why do we need to stay here?” the confusion was evident in the little girl's voice.

Lyarra stepped away from her daughter and towards the heart tree, placing her hand on its trunk. Turning back to her child, she spoke “Because I want you to promise me something, right here before the Old Gods”

Her mother’s words, and the serious turn that the conversations tone had taken alarmed Alys. She hesitated, before finally asking “What do you need me to promise mother?”

A feeling of sorrow twisted in Lyarra’s and her throat went dry, thinking of the weight of the promise that she was about to ask of her sweet young girl. She swallowed and began to speak.

“Alys, do you remember the stories that Old Nan told you about the Old Gods, about how they have paved the path that we are intended to walk in our lives before our lives have ever begun?”

“Yes? Old Nan said that anyone who tried to fight them usually lost. Badly.” If Alys had been confused before, then she was truly lost now. Her words sounded unsure as she continued. “They have a plan, and we all have a part to play in it. When were turn away from the path they’ve laid, we are betraying their love for us. Or at least Old Nan said something like that.”

Lyarra nodded and gestured for her daughter to come closer. When she did, Lyarra cupped her little girls face and looked into her eyes. Not breaking eye contact she spoke “ I want you to remember that when you make this promise to me Alys. Promise me that you will follow the path that is laid for you Alys, that you will ensure your brothers and sister do the same.” Lyarra felt her eyes water, and took a moment to collect herself before speaking again. 

“I’m so sorry my love, but I will not always be there to guide you and your siblings. But I must know that there will be someone to protect them, even it is from themselves. Promise me Alys, that if something happens, and I am no longer here, that you will be that person and keep them on their rightful paths” Her voice cracked as she spoke the last sentence.

It was all too much for the little girl, she grasped her mother's cloak and held on tightly, as if she was afraid she would disappear before her eyes. The implication of her mother's words only confirmed the fears she had grown ever since she had overheard Maester Walys and his apprentice Luwin discussing her mother's declining health. Her mother was going to leave her. Tears began pricking her eyes and her voice shook as she spoke, her despair evident.

“B-but how mother? Why me? How can I protect them or guide them on any paths? I don’t know h-how to!” The little girl wasn’t trying to calm herself now, the tears fell freely down her face and her words were interrupted by sobs.

Guilt wracked Lyarra’s heart. Yes, why Alys? Why not Brandon, older and stronger. Or even Eddard, who had a wiseness beyond his seven years. How could she even expect her young daughter to understand the meaning of what it was that she was asking of her? Lyarra supposed it was because she seen herself in the little girl, and knew that the gentle child was probably the best suited of her children to fill the gap she would leave. Her little Alys, who even as a babe never cried out for want of anything. Always quiet and resilient, who she hoped would be able to guide her siblings through the grief that her imminent passing would leave in her wake. Yes she was young, but time was a wise teacher. Her understanding of her mother's request would become clearer as she grew, and even so, Lyarra’s time was running short and she had little other choice than to pass this responsibility onto her first born daughter.

Taking the weeping girl into her arms, Lyarra stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her. She spoke soothingly “My Love, what are our houses words?”  
The reply Alys gave her was muffled, as she had buried herself deep within her mother’s fur cloak. “Winter is coming, Mother”

A strange sense of urgency washed over her and Lyarra pulled her daughter back to look at her “ I need you to promise me Alys, that you will watch out for your brothers, and please look after Lyanna. Promise me, when the baby comes, that you will give them all the love that I would give them, that I have given to all of you. Winter is coming my Love, there is no escaping that. So please Alys, promise me this with the old gods as our witness”

The little girl met her eyes, and despite the obvious doubt and blatant fear in her face, she nodded. “I promise mother.”

Lyarra smiled sadly, her sense of urgency replaced by sad sense of relief. She cupped her child's face, brushing away the river of tears that fell down her sweet face. “Thank you my Love, you don’t understand how much this means”

But Alys was not satisfied, her mind had come alive with questions that only her mother could answer, but just as she opened her mouth to question her mother's actions and request further, they were interrupted by the clear voice of her brother cutting through the tense silence of the godswood.

“Mother? Alys? Is everything alright?” Neds voice was laced with worry, his steely grey eyes confused. And it was then that Alys could only imagine the scene he had happened upon. His mother and sister holding on to each other for dear life, with both of their faces painted with tears and matching expressions of grief.

It was Lyarra who regained composure first, easily brushing away her tears and disguising her previously sorrowful expression with an easy smile as she addressed her son.  
“Yes Ned of course, your sister had a fall and It gave me a bit of a fright is all. Was there something you needed sweetling?”

For the second time that day, one of Lyarra’s children eyed her with doubt. His eyes bounced back to his younger sister, who was struggling to wipe away freshly fallen tears. He looked back towards his mother. “Father is looking for you mother, we didn’t know where you or Alys had gone..”

She disentangled herself from her daughter, grasping her little hand in hers as she guided her away from the heart tree. 

“ Well you’ve found us Ned. Worry not, we had simply come to pray and Alys’ little stumble delayed us, Now, shall we head back? I reckon that supper shall be served soon, and I for one would like to wash up before hand!” Lyarra’s tone was deceptively light, and Alys was left somewhat amazed at the sudden change,a dn even began wondering if she truly had fallen and the previous exchange had all been but a figment of her imagination.

Ned looked as if he wanted to object, a hundred questions evident in his dubious expression. But instead, he took his mother’s outreached hand and gave her a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Alright mother, but should we take Alys to Maester Walys first? She could of hurt herself.”

This time, to both Ned and Lyarra’s surprise, it was Alys small voice that answered him this time. 

“It's fine Ned, I’m fine Ned, but let's listen to mother and head back. My toes are freezing.”

Ned looked down at his sister and gave a huff of a laugh. With that he turned and began to lead his mother and sister back in the direction of his home. Before following her mother and brother back, Alys stopped and gazed back at the heart tree. It was as if its carved face stared right back at her with a knowing look. It would not forget her promise either. The girl shivered at the thought and quickly ran to up with her mother, who watched her with what she could only described as guilty eyes.


	2. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child was asleep, so his eye colour was unknown to her. But from what she could see, she decided that he was much like Lyanna when she was born. A dark tuft of curly hair sat on his head and his little nose was sharp, revealing that he had what her father would call ‘Stark features’. She promised her mother that she would take care of him, give him all the love that she would not be here to give. But a dark part of her, the part grieved by her mother’s death whispered to her “How could you love the very creature that killed her?”

Chp.2-Promise

Whenever Alys felt frightened or in need of comfort, the best solution to her was to run and bury herself beneath the furs of her parents bed. For her, it was a type of sanctuary where nothing bad could happen, not once her mother took her in her arms and she heard her fathers typically gruff voice lower itself to a soothing whisper. However, for the first time in her young life Alys wanted nothing more than to run from her sanctuary and the nightmare it contained.

That nightmare was Alys’ mother.

It was the only word strong enough to describe the sight that lay before her. Lyarra Stark’s once rosy face had gone white with death. Her beautiful features marred by the exhaustion of childbirth and a gauntness brought on by her deteriorating health. No longer did her mother's sparkling blue eyes gaze back at her, for now they were shut to the world forever. Most horrifically to the young girl, her mother lay in a bed dyed red with her own blood.

It was all too much and too horrible, but Alys could not look away. Her stomach wrenched as she felt her mother's hand, which had been weakly gripping her own, go slack. She felt herself begin to shake as sobs racked her body. Her mother's final words rang in her ears.

“Promise me Alys….don’t forget your promise..”

She could feel the strong hand of her father try to pull her away, to try and protect her from the sight before her, but it was too late. The image of her mother's lifeless body was forever imprinted in her mind. None of the children had been meant to see their mother this way, but when Lyarra had desperately begged Rickard to bring Alys to her, he did not have it in him to deny her.

Her pains had begun in the middle of the night, a moon earlier than it was supposed to. He thought at first that it might have been the same phantom pains that she had experienced when Lyanna was born, but the terror in her eyes and the blood tinged water staining the sheets between her legs said otherwise. From there it all happened so frightfully fast that Rickard barely had time to absorb all that had occurred within the short space of those few hours. His wife's screams, which had surely woken all those in the keep, grew quieter. Replaced by the frantic whispers of the maester and his assistants and the howls of the newly delivered babe. He had a son, he had heard Walys say as much. But the lifeless body laying in his blood stained bed told him that he no longer had his wife.

But he could not allow himself to stall on that just yet. As gently as he could, he pulled his weeping daughter away from the sight before her, her mother's hand now slipping away from the girls arm and falling limply at her side. He guided her out into the hall, where his two boys waited with Old Nan by their side in anxious silence. They too had been awoken by the sound of their mothers pain filled screams. The sight of their weeping sister did little to quell their fears and at first they all just stared at one another, but after a few painful seconds of silence, Brandon spoke.

“Mother?”

Rickard felt his head hang, the reality of the situation finally settling in. His only response to his son's question was a shake of his head and he heard what sounded like Eddard gasping.

“B-but father s-surely…not m-mothe-” Eddard did not finish his question, there was no point. Instead the boy turned on his heels and ran back towards what Rickard could only hope would be his room. Brandon stood there unmoving, unshed tears shining in his grey eyes. Old Nan stepped forward and took Alys from his arms.

“My lord, I shall see to the children. I think that it would be best for you to attend to other matters”

Rickard simply nodded,unable to summon the will to do anything else. He would speak with the children, but not now. Now he had to see to his Lyarra and the babe. With a hollow feeling in his chest, he pressed a kiss to his daughters forehead and squeezed Brandon’s shoulder before briskly making his way back towards his room. Watching her father go, Alys turned to the old woman beside her. Old Nan was already looking at her with pity. The ancient looking woman sighed and turned to lead the children back to their beds.

Once they had reached Alys room, Old Nan tucked the girl safely in her bed. She hesitated for a moment before placing her wrinkled old hand on the girls cheek. Her callouses scratched against Alys cheek, totally unlike her mother’s soft caress. They simply watched each other for a moment, until Alys finally spoke, her voice barely any louder than a whisper.

“Nan.. What will happen no-now that mother is gone?” Though she had asked the question, she wasn't quite sure that she truly wanted to hear its answer. The thought of a world devoid of her mother was nearly incomprehensible. Old Nan looked at her, or at least as well as a half blind old woman could. Her hazy green eyes, decorated by lines of wrinkles seemed to flicker from sympathetic to thoughtful. She finally answered with that gravely tone of hers sounding rougher than usual.

“Well my little lady, we must simply carry on as we always have. We must adjust, for while we will miss our lost ones, life does not wait . So we will move on and grow but not forget, my lady. Never forget, but only carry those good memories of your lady mother with us.”

“Memories will never compare to the real thing” she thought. Her mother should be alive. She should be here to welcome her new babe into the world. She should not have left Alys all alone with the heavy burden of her promise to bear upon her small shoulders. She felt that, though intended to be comforting, Nan’s words only achieved the opposite.

“Thank you Nan” She didn't really mean it. Whether the old woman could tell or not, she didn’t say. She simply stood and gave the girl one last look “Sleep child, morning will soon come.”

With that the old woman heaved herself from her seat on the bed, slowly dragging her hunched form towards the door. Once she shut it, darkness encompassed the room and left Alys alone with thoughts.

The world was quiet, too quiet for her considering the storm that now raged in her mind. She wanted to scream and cry, throw something at the wall even. Anything to break the silence. The silence allowed her to much time to focus on what she had lost and the weight of the promise she had made. It had settled in the young girls mind a while ago that her mother would leave her. How could she ignore it when her mother had all but confirmed her deepest fears to her that day in the Weirwood?

“Promise me Alys..”

She had promised her mother that she would watch over her siblings, guide them, protect them from themselves. It felt like an impossible task. It struck her then that she now had a new sibling. She sat up in her bed, the thought spurring her into motion. She quickly climbed from her bed and once again put on her slippers and robe before rushing out the door. The silence she despised following her as she went. She stole through the halls like a ghost, only stopping as she came to pass her mother and fathers chambers.

Her steps became slower and her heart grew heavier, if that was even possible at this point, as she approached her father. Though an hour had hardly passed from she seen him last she could hardly recognize him.

Rickard Stark, in his daughter's eyes, was the most wonderful father in the whole seven kingdoms. All her life, he had never been anything but strong. The time she had wandered into the crypts despite being told not to and gotten lost. She thought she would never be found, forced to live the rest of her life in the dark with the Stark's of the past. But he had found her, and took her into his arms and saved her. With the fire of his torch illuminating him, he had looked every bit like a hero from one of her stories but the hero from her memory was leagues apart from the man sitting before her now.

Her father sat on the cold stones with his head in his hands. His hair was wild, as if he had been tearing his hair through it and with his back curled in, it was the smallest she had ever seen her father look. She took a hesitant step towards her father, and placed a small hand upon his large one. When he looked at her, there was no surprise at her appearance, only a deep, overwhelming look of sorrow in his red rimmed eyes. His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke, his words reverberating off the walls of the silent hall “Didn’t you get sent to your bed.”

She hesitated “I… I wanted to see the babe, to make sure it was alright father.” It occurred to her then that she didn’t even know if she had a brother or sister. Whether it had lived or not. Perhaps it was not just her mother that her father wept for.

“The babe is well, you have a brother now. Hale and hearty, or so the maester said”

The emotionless look on her father’s face was not one that she had ever seen before. He looked as if he wanted to speak again, but fearing that he would send her back to her bed, she spoke hurriedly “I want to see him”.

He watched her for a moment, she had began to wonder if he had heard her at all when finally he pulled himself from the ground. Standing, he gestured for her to follow him before he turned to walk down the dark hall. He led her towards the room that she knew held the nursery and opened the door.

Though cloaked in shadows, the room looked no different from when she was in it last. It still held the same sturdy wood furniture and the heavy woolen rug was still littered with Lyanna’s toys. The same large tapestry embellished with the Stark sigil hung above the fireplace and next to that lay the cot where Lyanna lay sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of what they had lost. Her eyes turned towards the newest addition to the nursery. A small cradle with a wet nurse seated nearby. Seeing who had entered, the young woman sprung from her seat “m’lord! And the m’lady! I-”  
“Leave us” Her father ordered.

The wet nurse bowed, giving a week “Of course m’lord” and she quickly swept out of the room, shutting the door with a quiet thud. Now that they were alone, Alys took a quiet step towards the cradle that held her new brother. Peeping inside, she observed the child that lay within.

The child was asleep, so his eye colour was unknown to her. But from what she could see, she decided that he was much like Lyanna when she was born. A dark tuft of curly hair sat on his head and his little nose was sharp, revealing that he had what her father would call ‘Stark features’. She promised her mother that she would take care of him, give him all the love that she would not be here to give. But a dark part of her, the part grieved by her mother’s death whispered to her “How could you love the very creature that killed her?”

And yet, despite the dark whisperings, she felt none of the hatred that it yearned for her to feel. Looking into his little face, all she could see was all of the people she loved. In his dark curls she could see Lyanna. In his sharp little nose she could see Brandon. In the frown that grew on his sleeping face she could see Ned and her father. Running her fingers across his small face, her touch caused the babe to awaken. Looking at her inquisitively, he stared back her with matching clear blue eyes and in those eyes all she could see was her mother. No, she could not hate him, not when he held all of those she loved in him. Not when he was all she had left of mother. Blinking, she then realised that fresh tears had begun to run down her face. Turning to face her father, she seen him watching her with a strange look on his face.

“Does he have a name?”

“No, we...your mother and I, we thought he would be a girl.”

“What would you have named him if he had?”

He stepped forward, coming to gaze at the babe that now looked back up and him. Still gazing at his son, he answered. “Branda, you’re mother wanted to name him for her sister. Though now, had he been a girl, I would have named him for your mother”

“But he’s not a girl.”

“No, he is not.”

Silence reigned once more, as the three Stark’s watched one another. Alys felt her father turn towards her and she turned to meet his gaze. “What would you name him?” She looked at her brother again as she thought. She had heard Maester Walys giving Ned and Brandon a lesson on past Stark's, and one of them had stood out to her.

“Benjen”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Why Benjen?”

She shrugged “He looks like a Benjen”

For the first time that night, a ghost of a smile passed her fathers lips. “Benjen Stark it is then”

For a moment, the pain of her mother’s passing and the weight of her promise left her. Alys grasped her father’s hand and smiled back. For her father, for Brandon, for Ned, for Lyanna, for little Benjen and for the mother she lost. She would keep her promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So I finally got around to finishing the second chapter, which took me long enough lol I will try and update quicker in the future, but until then.
> 
> I do not own the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series or the 'Game of Thrones' TV show, both belong to George R.R. Martin.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So as you can probably tell, his is my first attempt at a fanfic lol. Any advice is appreciated and I'll do my best to update as often as I can.
> 
> -This a story inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire series and the Game of Thrones tv series, both of which belong to George R.R. Martin.


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